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<title>Lifetime Achievement Award by thenoodlesaresalty</title>
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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27489466">Lifetime Achievement Award</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/thenoodlesaresalty/pseuds/thenoodlesaresalty'>thenoodlesaresalty</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Cryptoverse [4]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Lemon Demon (Musician), Lemon Demon Musical Project - Neil Cicierega (Albums), lifetime achievement award - Fandom</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>1980s, Character Death, Creepy, Laboratories, Mad Science, Manipulation, Medical Experimentation, Medical Procedures, Mild Gore, Obsessive Behavior, One-Sided Attraction, Revenge, Unethical Experimentation, this can be really uncomfortable to read</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-04</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 21:16:20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,445</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27489466</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/thenoodlesaresalty/pseuds/thenoodlesaresalty</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>A famous rock star passed away a few years ago, but his contract's not over yet.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Cryptoverse [4]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2221413</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Improper Burial</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Six feet underground. That’s where he stayed for the past few weeks, and it’s where he <em> should be </em> staying. Despite being famous and known across the country, the poor man only had two people show up to his funeral <em> invited </em>. The way his mother wept and sobbed over her son’s grave could be heard all across the world. It took all his father’s might to pull her away once it was over. No friends ever showed up, except for a strange shadowy figure that eventually left in an instant. Once he faded from the music scene, everyone forgot. And when the world left his name in their distant memories, other organisms took their place. Worms and bacteria infested his body, using it as their very own feeding ground. The worn-down coffin is deathly cold and a secret nightclub for the insects seeping inside. His body has wilted away slightly, with holes in his skin exposing bones and organs to the partying insects. His arms are crossed over his chest, holding a dead morning glory under his calloused, pale palms.</p><p>His hole has only known pure darkness, but that all changed. Moonlight shimmers through small cracks in the soil, illuminating the coffin’s dull black color. Chunk after chunk of dirt is removed from his hole, allowing the digger to see the faded silver flowers and mice that decorate the cover. It takes a good few hours before the entire coffin is revealed to the outside world. The digger wears a protective plastic suit, the same uniform all the other people standing around are wearing. Tossing the shovel to the side, the digger calls the others to the hole, pointing down below. Other people in suits approach the hole, staring down with their soulless masks. Stepping in, the digger opens the coffin, releasing the decomposing odors and dust into the fresh air. Slowly, the covered people reach in and carry his corpse to the truck parked nearby. A shadowy man stands close, carefully watching as they place him into a container filled with liquid nitrogen. The lid creeps open, releasing a bit of the gas, and the people act quickly, placing his body perfectly inside.</p><p>The shadowy figure steps closer, observing the body as the lid slides back over. “Very good work, everyone. I want him taken back to the labs in no longer than thirty minutes, do you understand?” The suited people nod, heading into the back with the container. “If the temperature in that container rises by just a degree, I’ll be sure to rip all the veins from your bodies and knit them into a <b> <em>sweater</em> </b>,” His voice is stern with a hint of raspiness, and it booms in the area. They all agree, shaking as they step into the back. The figure walks towards the passenger’s seat, keeping his hand on the door handle. Glancing back, he stares at the grave, now being filled back up by other workers, and he smiles wide. His laugh lines slowly reach his lower eyelid, and he chuckles quietly to himself. “Everything’s going according to plan.” He slams the car door shut, waiting for the rest to finish their work in the muddy cemetery. The figure waits for everyone to return to their trucks. Once they finish, they all retreat to their own separate vehicles. Lightning strikes behind them as all the trucks quickly move down the road. </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Experiments in the Revival</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>An icy breeze blows through the grass, causing most of the wild creatures to burrow and hide. The grass is almost like a jungle for the tiny animals, with many obstacles such as rocks and very large sticks in the way. Among the miniature animals lives Ivan, a small lab mouse. He hurdles and leaps over the twigs and broken beakers that dominate his once living space. Through the grass, Ivan can feel the humid air rush into his face, and he quickly stops to rub his eyes with his little hands. He continues forth, despite the growling of nearby predators and the wretched humidity. Looking around his surroundings, Ivan spots a small hole in a wall. Where it leads to is unknown, but anything is better than the outdoors. A small droplet of rain splashes nearby, and lightning strikes in the distance, giving him more of a reason to go inside. Scurrying along, Ivan squeezes through the hole, flopping onto the ground.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It appears to be a lab. Counters line the walls, all covered in various equipment. Flasks and beakers of chemicals sit idly by, waiting for someone to use them. Ivan glances around before jumping onto one of the counters. He saunters down the top, carefully avoiding every flask, surgical tool, and bloodied rag he comes across. It’s a terrible mess, but Ivan has seen plenty of those in his days. He reaches the end of the counter and stares outward, his little mouse eyes focusing on a figure. He squeaks and hides behind a stack of paper, but he hears nothing and peeks his head out. A sickly man looms over the lab, his wrists and ankles latched onto the metal slab right beneath him. He’s barely breathing with wheezing breaths going in and out. Besides his breathing, his other noticeable feature is the amount of stitches covering him; Stitches around his eye and forehead, on his cheek, shoulder, leg, etc.. He almost looks like a poorly sewn doll made by a small child with the amount of stitching. Ivan, curious as a little mouse can be, quietly makes his way to the figure, but falls backwards when he awakes.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>His eyes flicker open, almost as if he’s never used them before. Once they finally open, they go wide, and he looks all around him. His wheezing breathing only gets worse as he goes into shock. Glancing over, he sees the shackle around his wrist, which only makes him more terrified. He screams, desperately trying to break free. But the more he struggles, the more irritated and stronger the shackles become. With how cold the metal is, his wrists and ankles become red and itchy, with a little bit of blood coming from the cuts. He can barely even move his neck, only able to turn it so he can see a small tag with his name and a number attached to his earlobe. Attempting once more to free himself, he ends up slamming his head onto the metal, giving him a horrible headache. Ivan, in terror, shuffles down the counter’s leg, rushing over to the figure.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The figure cries, his tears pouring down his face like an avalanche. Ivan slides into the figure’s view, waving his mouse arms wildly in the air. When his screaming fades to terrified whimpers, he peers down to Ivan. Looking all around, the figure cocks an eyebrow, mouthing, “Me?” The mouse nods, rapidly pointing behind him to the large, maroon doors in the front of the room. His tiny squeaks make absolutely no sense to any human, and the figure is no exception. Squinting hard, he tries to make sense of what’s in front of him, but nothing seems to fit. Ivan, wishing he spoke human language, places his arms behind his back, smiling a creepy, wide grin. After the small display, he goes back to pointing. It still doesn’t make any sense, but before the man can respond, the door swings open. </span>
</p><p>
  <span>A large cloud of cold air rushes into the room. A new figure appears in the shadows, his arms behind his back and a large smile on his face. He flips on the light switch, which slowly turns every light in the room on. With the light, it’s clear just who this figure is; he wears a pale red lab coat, rubber gloves, and boots. He strides into the room, tapping on each counter as he passes it. Walking by a table, he scoops up a clipboard and pen, taking the pen cap off with his teeth. Flipping through the pages, he doesn’t even notice Ivan and nearly steps on him, causing the mouse to run away. He looks up, startled by the figure being awake. Chuckling low, he places the clipboard down. “Well, look at that,” he says in a raspy British accent. “You’ve finally woken up! Gave us </span>
  <em>
    <span>quite</span>
  </em>
  <span> the scare before.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The experiment feels his throat close up, and he desperately wants to scream. But all that comes out is, “W… who?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Oh!” The scientist lightly smacks his forehead. “How impolite of me,” He places his gloved hand flat on his chest. “Dr. Liam Achilles Awan, head scientist of Sector A1,” The experiment continues to panic, but it’s far more quiet than before. Liam </span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>yuh</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>i fucking hate liam.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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